The Collection

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The Collection Page 8

by West, Sam


  You enjoying this, bitch? I’ll give you something to really look at.

  Pulling the belt through the loops of his blue jeans, he unbuttoned his fly and slid his jeans down his legs.

  Lynda had a little half-smile on her face, her expression dreamy. When he glanced over at Stefan, he didn’t look happy at all and Chris experienced a perverse stab of satisfaction.

  Jealous, much, you old, ugly, fat cunt?

  “I strongly suggest you get your girlfriend to strip right now before I blow her brains out.”

  Ronnie raised her tear-stained face to look at Stefan. “Please, why are you doing this…?”

  “Ronnie?” Chris said. “Please do as the man says.”

  She swivelled her head to look at him, and for the first time, he saw the light of understanding in her eyes. She got to her feet, and, with absolutely none of the finesse of Lynda, she struggled out of her black dress and stood there in her black underwear.

  Chris couldn’t help but compare the two women.

  Christ, what did I ever see in her, he thought, running his gaze over her stocky body. She was nothing compared to Lynda, nothing.

  “For fuck’s sake, this is taking far too long, I’m getting hungry,” Lynda pouted.

  “Yes, me too. So come on, you fuckers, lose the rest right this second,” Stefan said.

  Chris didn’t stop to ponder on the oddity of Lynda’s words, instead kicking off his boots, and shrugging down his underpants so that he was naked. Ronnie did the same but he barely looked at her. She looked so pathetic standing there, quivering and naked.

  “Can I have the gun, sweetie?” Lynda asked her husband.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Lynda rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, you always get to play with the gun, you promised I could have a go this time.”

  He paused a second before replying. “Okay.”

  Chris looked at him; was he nervous? He couldn’t even begin to second guess the dynamics between them or what was going on here, and he figured he had more important things to worry about, like, what the fucking hell did they want with him?

  But he kept his cool and his face composed.

  Stefan handed his wife the gun and she took it with a sweet smile, before turning to face her two naked hostages.

  “Sit back down please,” she said, waving the gun at them, “and move the chairs back a little from the table.”

  They did, with Ronnie continuing to cry and curling up her legs as best she could whilst wrapping her arms over her bare breasts.

  Chris, however, did the exact opposite; he sat with his legs slightly apart as he would have done were he clothed, resting one arm casually against the chair’s sparkling armrest. The jewels cut into the bare flesh of his forearm but he refused to remove his arm or let the discomfort and the humiliation he was feeling show on his face.

  He locked eyes with Lynda who was perched on the edge of the glass table facing them. Stefan still sat in his seat on the opposite side.

  “Oh, gosh, this underwear is so uncomfortable,” she said, reaching round her back to unclasp her bra. Her big tits bounced free; the most perfect pair that Chris had ever seen in his life. Despite the horror of his situation, his cock stiffened to half-erect.

  He stared at the firm, creamy mounds of flesh, so high and proud and big; she had to be a D cup at least. Her erect nipples were small and shell-pink, almost invisible against her milky skin. His mouth dried out completely when she hooked her thumbs in her knickers and slipped the flimsy pink garments down her long, slim legs. She kept on the black, high-heels and spread her legs wide. Her cunt was hairless, the folds of her labia the same pale pink as her nipples.

  He sucked in a sharp intake of breath when she lifted one leg up and placed her foot on the glass top of the table. She leaned back slightly, ensuring that both of them could see every inch of her beautiful cunt.

  “You are very beautiful, Chris, why don’t you fist that luscious cock of yours, show me how much you want me.”

  Ronnie turned her soggy face towards him, wailing all the louder. “Chris, please…” she said, her words trailing away into uncontrollable sobbing.

  “Honey? What are you doing?” Stefan piped up from the other side of the table. “I know you like to play with the food, but don’t you think you’re taking it a little far?”

  Chris had temporarily forgotten about Stefan, and when he looked at him he saw that the man was on his feet and undressing.

  “I’m just having a bit of fun, Stefan,” she pouted. “All that blood pumping violently around the body makes the meat taste so much better.” She turned her attention back to Chris. “Do it. Show me how much you want me.”

  Chris gulped, but kept his gaze on her steady as he grabbed his cock. To his surprise, he was met with hot flesh as hard as steel. Lynda’s eyes flashed lust, and his eyes latched onto her cunt once more.

  Holy Jesus, she’s wet, he thought, and his cock gave an approving twitch. Her pussy folds had swollen slightly and parted, glistening under the light of the chandelier and he couldn’t lie to himself anymore; he was as horny as fucking hell.

  Slowly, he pumped his cock, so turned on now he didn’t even care that she had a gun trained on him, or that her husband and his girlfriend were in the room.

  “Very good,” she said, her voice lusty and low. “Would you like to know why you are here tonight?”

  Ronnie didn’t reply, she just continued with that infernal wailing.

  “Yes, I do,” Chris said, amazed at how steady his voice sounded.

  “You’ve got balls. I like that. I like that a lot. Normally, this is the part where me and Stefan would make you lie on your backs on the table and then we would eat you up.”

  Chris looked at her blankly. Surely he hadn’t heard right?

  He became aware of Stefan’s presence, standing next to Lynda. The sight of his wrinkly, flabby flesh and little cock almost made him lose his erection so he concentrated instead on Lynda’s glistening cunt.

  “Why are you explaining everything to the bloody dinner?” Stefan asked. “I’m hungry, let’s just eat.”

  “Because I feel like it, okay? In actual fact, I’m getting quite sick of your constant bloody whining.”

  She swivelled her torso round and shot him between the eyes.

  Stefan slithered to the floor in a spray of blood and Lynda eyes him impassively.

  Ronnie screamed an ear-splitting scream and Chris sat there shocked, staring at the carnage in disbelief.

  “And your fucking girlfriend can shut up, too,” she said, jumping to her feet and bringing the handle of the gun down hard against the girl’s temple.

  Ronnie’s screams were instantly cut dead and she flopped sideways before slithering to the floor in an ungainly heap of naked flesh.

  “There. Much better,” Lynda said, running a hand through her lustrous mane of brown hair.

  Chris was too shocked to speak, to even move. He just sat there dumbfounded, not believing what was happening. He stared hard at Ronnie.

  She’s still breathing. Not like Stefan.

  Jesus. Why would she kill him?

  Slowly, he wrenched his gaze up to meet Lynda’s. “What do you want, Lynda?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I’ve wanted you since the first second I saw you. I’m a little older than I look, Chris, and it’s fair to say that I’m a pretty good judge of character seeing as I’ve been round the block more than once. I know when I see a kindred spirit, when I see someone just like me.”

  “I’m nothing like you,” he said before his brain had a chance to engage.

  Instead of angering her, she threw back her head and laughed. His gaze lingered on the milky expanse of her exposed white neck, and he imagined burying his face there and inhaling her scent as he roughly fucked her.

  “Oh, I beg to differ. You have a pitch-black soul, and the carnal desire to match. Your passion runs deep, Chris, deeper than you know yourself.�


  She sashayed towards him, her hips swaying provocatively. With one hand flat against his flexing pec muscle, ever so lightly she brushed her lips against the fluttering pulse in his throat.

  I could overpower her right now, twist that gun out of her hand…

  But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “It takes one to know one,” she whispered.

  Her breath tickled his skin and his cock twitched.

  Jesus, why am I so fucking hard?

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice gruff.

  It was hard to think straight with her so close; her scent and the body heat radiating off her was making him dizzy and muddling his thoughts.

  He stood stock-still, his breathing shallow, making no move to either pull her close or push her away.

  “I’ve told you. I want you. I have been with Stefan for one-hundred and twenty-two years. Believe me, affections can wear a little thin after such a long time, even if I do owe him everything.”

  “What games are you playing, Lynda?”

  She curled her hand around his stiff cock and he sucked in a sharp intake of breath.

  “No games, Chris. Nothing you can’t handle, anyway.”

  The cold muzzle of the gun pushed into his side as she pressed her lips firmly against his. The swell of her firm breasts pressed against his chest and desire coursed through his body.

  All too soon she pulled away from him, leaving him high, dry, and panting for more.

  “Any second now, Stefan will wake up. I could just cut off his head now, of course, but then you wouldn’t see,” she said matter-of-factly as she perched on the edge of the table, casually waving the gun in his direction. “And you need to see. I could explain everything until I’m blue in the face, but without evidence, what’s the point? It’s human nature and I respect that. But soon you will become slightly more than human.”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  She crossed and uncrossed her legs with all the grace and confidence of a high-powered woman in a business meeting. How comfortable she was in her own skin was astounding and he’d never been so drawn to a woman like this before.

  “Okay Chris, time to lay my cards on the table. You agree with me that Stefan has been shot in the head, yes? Would you mind taking a closer look at the exit would? I need you to see that this isn’t a trick.”

  Chris really didn’t want to inspect the back of Stefan’s head, but he stepped over to the man’s corpse and peered at the neat little red hole in the middle of his forehead.

  “Go on, twist his head to the side, take a good look. He won’t bite. Not yet anyway.”

  Sighing, Chris reached down and fisted the man’s silver hair, dragging his head up off the floor. It was a lot heavier than he expected, and he shuddered in disgust.

  The guy was deader than dead.

  I really don’t want to be seeing this shit, he thought, twisting the man’s head sideways.

  Sure enough, the back of his head was a bloody mess of shattered skull, blood and clumpy brain matter. He only looked at it for a second, turning his face to gain control of his clenching stomach.

  “Okay, that’ll do. Do you agree that I blew out his brains?”

  “Yes,” he said, hating the quaver to his voice, but God, this was so fucked up.

  “Good. In five minutes or less, the back of his head will completely heal over and dear Stefan there will be as right as rain, not to mention mightily pissed off. I expect he will fly at me in a rage so I will have to shoot him again pretty quick and then sever his head from his body.”

  Chris just looked at her blankly; he had never felt more confused in his entire life. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I suppose you could call us vampires, although it’s not blood we drink, but flesh we eat. We call ourselves Flesh Eaters. Not too original is it? Anyway, Stefan introduced me to this life over a hundred years ago. We are the only two that we know of, apart from Stefan’s long-dead ex and we agreed to keep it that way. If we made any more of us, I knew it would be too dangerous. We are dangerous, and we would end up killing each other. Plus the more of us there are, the more chance we have of being found out, because we need to feed.”

  “To feed,” he repeated numbly.

  Understanding danced on the outskirts of his mind, but it was too much for him to take in.

  “Yes, to feed,” she said with exaggerated patience. “We don’t have to feed on human flesh too often; once a month is enough and mainly we exist on regular human food. But if we don’t eat the flesh of a living person, we die. I want you by my side, Chris. Stefan chose me, and now I choose you.”

  “Why me?” was all he could think to ask.

  “I have been watching you Chris, following you. From the first moment I saw you when you picked Ronnie up from the office that time I knew I had to have you. I had to make you mine.”

  Chris was dumbfounded. This was crazy, she was crazy, this was a nightmare, it was…

  the chance of a lifetime. Immortality. A soulmate. My every dark desire fulfilled.

  He shook his head to clear his confused thoughts.

  “I think you’re starting to get it,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. And if you can go through with this, I can give you the world. I have more money than I know what to do with, but sometimes I like to work for the fun of it, just like I did at the cosmetic company. And when I get bored, or I’m in danger of the kills catching up with me, I move on.” She slid her rump off the glass table and came to him once more, standing close, but not touching him. “And that time is now. Fresh start. Different country. A brand new adventure, just you and me.”

  Her blue eyes glittered with carnal promise, with knowledge and evil. He shivered, God, she was fucking mesmerizing.

  “Oh look, he’s waking up,” she said.

  Chris’s mind reeled. The vast room distorted around him and he swayed on the spot. It was all too much; her words, and not least because Stefan was actually sitting up. It beggared belief, but there it was, happening.

  “Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, staggering away from him.

  Despite the blood and brains that smeared the floor surrounding him and his red-streaked torso, Stefan was, indeed, alive and well. The back of his head had healed over, even if clumps of brain stuck to his silver hair.

  Has the fucker grown a new brain, he thought incredulously. But he wasn’t even fucking breathing a few seconds ago. How is that even fucking possible?

  “You bitch,” Stefan said, getting clumsily to his feet. “That really fucking hurt.”

  “Sorry, darling,” she said, pointing the gun at him. “But it’s over.”

  “No! Don’t you dare point that thing at me, don’t you…”

  His words were severed by the blast of the gun and he crumpled to the ground.

  “He’ll stay down for five minutes or so, until he regenerates again. Christ, now the stupid little slag is waking up, too. It’s all go here today, isn’t it?”

  Ronnie was stirring on the ground, making pathetic whimpering sounds like a run-over cat. Lynda strode over to her and with the tip of the pointed toe of her high-heel, she kicked her in the temple. Ronnie shut-up instantly and was still.

  Despite lusting after Lynda, Chris balked. “Don’t. You’ll kill her.”

  Lynda rolled her eyes. “She’s already dead. Get over it.”

  As repulsive as her words were, somehow he recognised that he wasn’t quite as disgusted as he should have been. Not if his erection was anything to go by, anyway.

  Lynda went to her husband and crouched down besides him. Fisting his hair, she twisted round his head and shoved her fingers into the back of his cracked skull, scooping out a handful of brains.

  “Mmm, delicious.”

  Chris’s stomach clenched, yet he didn’t puke. His eyes bugging, he watched her bring the innards of Stefan’s head to her mouth. Her slender, pink tongue daintily lapped at the spongy, dripping
gunk in the palm of her hand.

  “Eat,” she said, striding confidently towards him, the gun swinging from her other hand. She shoved the brains under his nose.

  In his head, he was running for the door, risking the fact that she could easily shoot him in the back. Surely getting shot was better than eating fucking brains?

  The coppery stench of blood hit his nostrils and his stomach roiled, but not necessarily from repulsion.

  Was my fucking stomach actually fucking rumbling?

  “That’s it,” she cooed, “give in to it. Flesh eaters smell different from normal people. If ordinary folk smell our blood, it awakens a long-buried, primal lust in them. We really do smell good enough to eat. I can’t even be around others when I’m menstruating. But don’t worry, when you’ve turned, the urge to eat normal people will be far stronger than your desire to eat another Flesh Eater.”

  “This is insane,” he whispered.

  But still he did not run, instead imagining what those, warm, soft brains would taste like.

  “I remember when Stefan turned me, all those years ago. He’d been with his wife for eighty years, but he fell for me. So don’t feel bad, what goes around comes around. He deserves it.”

  The truth was, Stefan’s well-being was about the furthest thought from his mind. His mouth began to water and before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed her hand and was sucking on the brains like it was a pile of mushed-up cake.

  “Good boy,” she purred, “I knew I was right about you.”

  Endorphins exploded in his brain as he took bite after bite of the delicious offering in her hand. A warm, tingling sensation spread through him, much like the time he had put his back out and the morphine they had given him at the hospital had blazed a trail of numbing bliss through his body. Except this was a thousand times stronger; it felt like he was floating. Dimly, he became aware of a moaning sound from the floor.

  Ronnie.

  His head swivelled in her direction, his mouth watering. “Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie.”

  Lynda giggled. “Patience. We have to deal with my ex-husband first. The only way to kill a Flesh Eater is to remove the head from the body and we have to do it quick before he comes round again. And when we’ve done that, we can start on the really tasty dinner.

 

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